Page 7 of Enemies with my Bestie’s Brother
This is the first chance that I’ve had since arriving in San Francisco to look at the place. It’s been up for sale for two days already and there are several other offers already being considered.
If I want this place — and I’m pretty sure that I do — then I’m going to have to move fast.
“Well,” the realtor says as she looks at me. “I’ll leave you alone to tour the apartment on your own. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”
She leans against the counter and gives me a small smile. The looks she gives me are predatory. It’s the kind of look that I got from some of the women who used to run in the same social circles I did. They could spot designer clothing from a mile away.
They are the kind of women who look at a man and dollar signs pop into their eyes.
Disgust rolls through me as I watch her glance down at my watch, interest apparent on her face. When she glances back up at me, her mouth parts slightly and I’m not sure that I’m not going to want to hear the next words out of her mouth.
After giving her a polite smile, I turn and head down the hall to the other rooms.
The floors are hardwood and pale, catching the light streaming in through the windows and reflecting it back. These windows stretch from the floor to the ceiling, giving stunning views of the city and the ocean beyond.
I open the door to the primary bedroom, taking in the large space. The same massive windows cover two of the walls, wrapping around the corner. I take a deep breath and let it out, my shoulders relaxing as I look at the skyline.
It’s been a long time since I had something this beautiful to look at. Living in Florida was great, but there’s something about skyscrapers that calls my name.
That, and the rush of being surrounded by people who are just as busy as I am.
In other states, nobody seems like they’re in a hurry to get things done. I’ve sometimes felt like I’m the only one working myself to the bone. Penny has said more than once that that’s not a healthy mindset to have. She says that other people know how to enjoy life more.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy life.
I just run from the things that hold me back and the people who only want to use me.
“Are you okay in here?” the realtor asks, appearing in the doorway with a fake smile on her face. “I would be more than happy to show you around.”
“I’m good, thanks. I prefer to look around on my own.”
The smile twists into a slight frown, but her gaze still lingers on me. The look she gives me is one that makes my walls go up.
She knows that I have money to spend and all she is interested in is the commission, which wouldn’t be a bad thing, if I didn’t think that she would try to get me to spend more money than I am willing to.
I have a budget in mind for buying a home, and she isn’t going to convince me to go higher.
“You know, there is a penthouse a few blocks down. Nearly a thousand square feet bigger than this one.” She pulls her phone out and starts tapping away on it before turning it toward me.
I barely glance at the ad on the screen before I shake my head. “It’s out of my budget.”
She looks me over and shrugs. “I know who you are. A quick search through the internet told me everything I need to know about you and what you can afford. This building may be nice, but I have other listings that would better suit a client like you.”
“And I have already told you that I’m not interested. I appreciate your ability to do your job, but I have a set price in mind and I will not be spending more than that.”
Her lips purse at my cool tone. I don’t bother to say another word to her as I leave the first bedroom and start looking at the others. All the bedrooms are large, and there are a couple different ones that would make for a great home office.
At least, they would if I knew anything about decorating.
If I am going to spend a few million dollars on a home, I want it to feel like a home. The rooms will need more than a bed and a dresser in them.
I pull up the listing on my phone and check the price again. It doesn’t truly matter — I could afford the penthouse several times over — but I don’t want to spend an unreasonable amount of money.
After all, the rich don’t stay rich by throwing all their money away. Not to mention I’d rather donate my money to our family charities.
With the cost of this apartment, I would still have enough money left in my budget to hire an interior designer. I know I’m going to need one if I want to make this place feel welcoming and comforting.
I tuck my phone away and continue through the halls and the rooms, taking in the massive windows, hardwood floors, and the stunning kitchen.
